Hebert already has had one awakening, and it came after his sophomore college season. Though he had played well and the team had an 8-3 record, he sensed something was wrong. "We should have done better," he says. "We had the fastest offense anywhere. We had Joe Delaney, Mark Duper and Victor Oatis, who ran on the NCAA championship 400-meter-relay team."
The problem was that as a full-blooded Cajun, a descendant of those French-Canadian immigrants who settled in the swamps below New Orleans in the late 1700s, Hebert was built for partying.
"Let me tell you a short history of the Cajuns," he implores a visitor in the parking lot outside his apartment.
Teresa, his wife of 3� years, a former cheerleader at NSU, sighs, picks up their 2�-year-old daughter, Ryan, and finally walks on.
"Can you tell anything short?" she asks. Of course not. The lecture about the joys of Cajun life goes on and on—with great gusto.
"And do you know what dis August 15 is?" Hebert asks, fairly quivering. "It's the two-hundredth anniversary of the Hebert family's landing in New Orleans! There's going to be a beeg party in Cut Off. Relatives will be coming from all over." Is he going to attend?
"I don't know," he says, a bit deflated. "I may be in training camp."